


Deceit

by Hexes



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Breathplay, Confessions, Dubious Consent, Emotionally constipated characters, Fear, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Manipulative Behaviour, Possessive Hannibal, Scent Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, Will is so screwed, barely resolved sexual tension, excessive use of medical terminology, highly sensitive Hannibal, lying, season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexes/pseuds/Hexes
Summary: Canon divergence, S2E13: Will leans across the table to pick up documents that need to be destroyed. His neck is bared to Hannibal's sensitive nose, who becomes hurt and angry that Will has lied to him. He expresses the frustration carnally.





	Deceit

    Will leaned across the desk in front of him, his hips tilted to face the edifice as he bent at the waist to reach forwards and across. The material of his shirt shifted, tight against his ripcord arms, his hair falling forward to obscure his face ever so slightly.

    The scent wafted off of the material of his shirt, faint but clinging. Mountains of hair perfumed with citrus blossom and sandalwood. The sweet, bright-sharp scent of balsamic vinegar, the rich earth cloy of leather gloves.

    He leaned forward to inhale deeply, Will's chin turning ever so slightly toward him in curiosity.

    Freddie Lounds. Faint, to be certain, but distinctive. Perhaps a new coworker? _Unlikely_ , he thought, displeased.

    “Have you deceived me, Will?” Hannibal asked, his right hand dropping to rest against the desk, papers fluttering like a rapid pulse.

    Will's blue-grey eyes slanted sideways, peeking at him. The corner of his mouth curled impishly. He was beautiful in the warm, comfortable glow of the fire. Gilded.

    “I'll need you to be more specific,” he breathed, his mouth smelling of wintergreen and whiskey. Hannibal slotted his left hand onto the desk, caging the flighty young man against the edge of the oak structure. A shudder chased itself up and down Will’s back before he went quite still, his breathing slow, even, and deep in his diaphragm. He tilted his head back slightly, eyes straining to catch Hannibal’s, his hands clutching at the stack of papers he held.

    “Ah, but that is not a courtesy that you have extended me, is it, now?” He leaned forward, crowding the brunet, inhaling again, angling himself into Will’s neck, nose, and teeth a mere thought from the younger’s external carotid artery. Will’s breath faltered. He might be working his way toward predation, but Hannibal was much more accomplished, an apex predator, and it was not so uncommon for larger predators to consume those lower on the totem pole.

     “Tell me,” he breathed, “confess.” He demanded, setting his teeth into the myriad scents that contaminated Will’s flushing skin.

    “I…” he struggled to understand what Hannibal was actually asking. “I don’t really… like beer,” he whispered a slight catch in his voice. “Alana waxed poetic about it, and I mostly drank it to shut her up.” The hot-thick musk of the dogs, the pines that stood sentry around the house, the still-lingering warm-hay scent of the horses that had lived on the farm just prior to Will’s ownership. The paper and ink warming in his nervous grasp.

    “My dear, sweet Will,” he purred, brushing his chest against the caged man’s back, “Always so ready to please,” he brushed his nose against the wiry hairs at the jut of Will’s jaw, nostrils flaring. The explosive barrage of Jack’s spicy cologne, the powdery puff of Alana’s detergent, the cacophony of fragrances that plagued Jimmy and Brian. The cloying flowery perfume of some unknown person that clung to Will’s hands. Hannibal ran his lips against the hot column of Will’s throat, jealous and proprietary -  they had touched him, leaving their stain on his body. _Unacceptable_.

    “I’m still,” he swallowed, his own scent spiking, the glittering stream at the edge of the property, flushed hot skin, the intoxicating, hops-bitter scent of his fear, “still… uncomfortable… with being in the kitchen with you, while you cook.” Whiskey, coffee, those absurd little mints that Will chewed on absently when staring at casework. The pine sap soap he’d switched to, bowing to Hannibal’s complaints about his after-shave. Will pulled the notes to his chest, unsure of what to do with this proximity.

    “You wound me,” Hannibal whispered, his lips catching on flushing skin, pulling back to allow teeth to caress the fluttering pulse so _close_ to his tongue. He pushed closer, his body slowly melding along Will’s, thighs brushing. He slid one oxford-clad foot along the somewhat bedraggled chukka that Will wore. “You are no prey animal,” he rumbled in pleasure as a new scent joined the fray. Wet and musky. Primal. Arousal.

    Will warmed against him, tilting his head, lengthening his neck, baring himself to Hannibal’s aching teeth, his parched throat. He curled his pelvis back, completing the contact that Hannibal had left as his choice, one of the few he had ever allowed his young protege.

    “I,” his breath stuttered as Hannibal licked, hungry and wanting against his pulse, “I find myself drawn to you,” a soft moan was strangled down as Hannibal bit, ever-so-gently into the meat of his trapezius. “I’m confusing myself…” his hips jerked as Hannibal bit this neck, teeth slotted around his cervical vertebrae.

    “Then let me guide you,” he breathed against Will’s ear, nibbling at the lobe, delighted by the needy gasp that wended its way from Will’s throat. He pulled his right hand along the desk, slow and deliberate, to ensure that Will saw the movement, understood what it meant. He shook his head, unsure. Hannibal glanced down the length of Will’s torso, the slightly-too-large slacks doing nothing to hide the arousal pooling at the apex of his legs. So _close_.

    “Yes,” he breathed the word, soft as silk against his charge’s cheek. His laid his palm against Will’s clothed erection, pressing down with the heel of his hand and pushing forward with his pelvis. Will rewarded him with a moan, punched from his lungs by the dual sensation, his head falling back against Hannibal’s shoulder, his throat tantalizingly bare.

    “You tempt me, little one,” he nosed at the bulging Adam’s apple. Will shook his head again, unclear about what he was denying. “Yes,” he ground against the firm gluteals, rolling his hips greedily, “you tempt me,” he brought his head up, pressed his cheek to Will’s, commanded softly, “open yourself to my touch.” He heard the working of Will’s throat, gulping down saliva and terror. He dropped the documents on the desk, fingers trembling.

    “I’ve not…” his hands came to his belt anyway, working the clasp, “with a man, ever…” he unbuttoned his slacks, lowered the fly, “or, ah, anything” he cleared his throat, cheeks flaming, “In a while.” He sounded sheepish, pushing his boxer briefs down to expose himself.

    “I know,” Hannibal offered, inordinately pleased by that. He’d taken Alana away - removed a distraction - and was delighted to know that nothing else had caught the young man’s fancy. He wrapped his right hand around Will’s length, fingers curling possessively around the smooth, hot flesh. He finally lifted his left to make quick work of his own trousers and pants, freeing himself and coaxing Will’s clothing to make space for him to lay himself against naked flesh, rocking into the valley between Will’s cheeks, the mound of his pyriformis perfect against his foreskin. He worked his right hand steadily, his nose buried into the nape of Will’s neck, teeth grazing, distracting the brunet as he deftly unbuttoned his shirt. His hand creeping around his naked torso, over heaving ribs, along his sternum, coming to rest with menace against his clavicles.

    “Are you always so quiet?” Hannibal asked before worrying a love bite into crimson glory at the base of Will’s neck, squeezing his erection tightly. The bursting blood vessels rounding out Will’s bouquet. Will’s hands fluttered indecisively, resting one moment on Hannibal’s forearms, the next clutching at his wrist, almost begging him to stop.

    “Not sure?” Will panted in response, his eyes screwed shut, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He shook his head again, rolling it to nuzzle against Hannibal’s shoulder, “Not much opportunity to find out.”

    “Mm,” Hannibal pulled back, fetching a bottle of oil from a drawer in the desk. He quickly coated his hand, then his erection, wanting to catch Will in this pliable moment before his senses broke through the haze. He rearranged himself, tucking his length between Will’s thighs. “Bring your legs tight for me, darling.” Will’s brow knit, his shoulders moving in discomfort. Hannibal intervened quickly, crushing the glimmer of higher cognitive function, the thumb and forefinger of his left hand catching Will just behind the angle of the mandible, pressing against the carotid artery, his right palm twisting over Will’s glans. One of Will’s hands raised, tentatively, fingertips ember hot, to thread through Hannibal’s hair, clutching the stands like so much gold. His hips rolled and he tugged at Hannibal’s hair, his mouth fallen open in breathless need.

    “Yes,” Will wheezed through the pressure of Hannibal’s hand, his thighs tightening obediently.

    “So good for me,” he wanted to torture Will for his indiscretion, for lying to him - he’d made such a beautiful courting gift for the little sneak - but he was so soft at this moment, malleable and willing to place himself under Hannibal’s hands, at his _mercy_. “At times, anyway,” he was quite hurt, and there would be a reckoning, a cruel and just punishment, but at least for now, he’d enjoy the gasping, grasping William in his hands and under his care.

    “I don’t know,” Will gasped, his vision dancing. “I don’t know what to do,” he became still, thighs locking, back tensing, his hands trembling in their greedy grasp, “with you... or _to_ you…”

    Hannibal released the pressure on Will’s neck as the orgasm washed over him and he bowed forward, the long line of his back dipping into the curve of his waist and flare of his hips. Hannibal shoved his shirt up, raking angry welts down the younger man’s back.

    “Do not deceive me again, little one,” his own orgasm loomed, dark and heady, so close he could smell it in the air, dense between Will’s highs, heavier than the bright, pungent scent of the phosphatase in Will’s ejaculate. “Never.” he draped himself over Will’s back. “I could not bear it again.” Release rampaged through him and he latched ravenous teeth into the brunet’s trapezius, biting hard enough to cause Will to whine in distress, though his thighs tightened, and his hips tilted to welcome Hannibal’s crisis.

    He relaxed slowly, letting Will take his weight as they pressed down against the desk. The crackling fire and smell of burnt paper wrapped them in comfortable silence.  Their breathing evened as Hannibal ran soothing hands along Will’s back, enchanted by the brilliant red marks painted along the length, the sanguine love bite peeking from underneath his rumpled collar.

    “I’ll try,” Will whispered, voice tremulous with heartbreak. Hannibal nodded against his shoulder, eyes falling closed in pained understanding.

    “Yes,” he accepted the assurance.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super new to this fandom, and I don't care what the show runners say about Hannigram being platonic, I think they should bang.  
> So here's some not-exactly sex.  
> Comments welcome (and encouraged).


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